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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24230872">Teach Me How (to live, to love, to die)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/herestolookingatyou/pseuds/herestolookingatyou'>herestolookingatyou</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>BAMF Marlene McKinnon, Childhood Trauma, Coming of Age, Death Eaters, F/M, First War with Voldemort, Gen, Hogwarts, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Minor Character Death, POV Female Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 18:48:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,941</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24230872</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/herestolookingatyou/pseuds/herestolookingatyou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's always hard to know where one will stand when the world comes to a head. But for Marlene, it's never been a question of where, or even if - it's always been a question of why.</p>
<p>This is the story of one extraordinarily lonely girl, and how she found a purpose.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Marlene McKinnon &amp; James Potter, Remus Lupin/Marlene McKinnon, Sirius Black &amp; Marlene McKinnon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. For These Few Most Precious</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Marlene has a guard on her heart. It’s tight, thoroughly compacted, completely secure and it has been for years. </p>
<p>Some say it is the result of never having allowed for female companionship, something which is apparently necessary if she wants to be molded into being one herself. Others point fingers at the tragedy of watching her brother die. There are the few that blame a negligent childhood, with showers of material objects and never a drop of anything resembling emotional value. Most, however, chalk it all up to the fact that she’s a heartless, frigid witch who just doesn’t care.</p>
<p>And Marlene? </p>
<p>She says sod off.</p>
<p>The truth is probably a mess of it all, just a big bowl of screwed up and shoddy, stirred and stirred, sprinkled with irony, heavily dosed with misery and left to bake in the intense heat of a fucked up life. </p>
<p>It’s the defining mantra for Marlene’s life, and would have continued to be, had she never met the select few who actually make a difference in it all. The ones who counteract the screwed up and shoddy, even if it’s all still an utter shitshow. </p>
<p>Whatever. </p>
<p>Point is, her heart is guarded like Buckingham during tourist season or the Prime Minister at public rallies or that musician with the awful braids who is always getting shot at. She doesn’t mind that last bloke - she feels as if he may be able to relate to her a bit. Maybe, and maybe his heart is as fortified and caged as hers, and maybe there’s a select few who manage to slip in and set up shop despite his best efforts. And then again, maybe not. Maybe only Marlene’s got a hold on this particular front.</p>
<p> Marlene’s certainly got a fair share of those in her life. And they can be so dim, thick, idiotic - useless. More harmful than helpful, really. Yet, she can’t seem to shake them no matter how hard she tries. </p>
<p>The problem is, she keeps trying with the most detrimental of the bunch, doesn’t she? Bit of that screwed up and shoddy irony. And it’s her rule, that one can explain but not excuse. It’s a part of her, never make excuses, perhaps never even explain if she could help it.</p>
<p>Explaining is dangerous business. It reveals too much, shows too much, gives more than is asked for the taking. In other words, not Marlene’s style by far. She’s known this for ages, since the start of her first real friendship with Sirius and Regulus and yeah, alright, Smith too.</p>
<p>It starts during a private dinner party. Sirius, Regulus and her spend hours laughing after they  trick the Montague boy into stripping down to his skivvies. Well, that is, Sirius and Marlene  laugh, while Regulus tries being honorable by suppressing his giggles, nearly choking with the effort.</p>
<p>“Who are you, anyway?” Sirius Black asks curiously and she doesn’t care for him enough to feel offended. Actually, she finds it monumentally yawn worthy. </p>
<p>“Marlene McKinnon,” his younger brother informs smoothly, and both she and Sirius stare at him. Sirius like he’s going to laugh and Marlene like the boy is entertaining and, yeah, completely barmy. Regulus just shrugs and explains, “Lady McKinnon is the french one.”</p>
<p>“We’re french,” Sirius points out, puffing up his chest. “Somewhere down the line.’</p>
<p>“Not for nearly a century.”</p>
<p>Typically, seven year old wizards spewing words like ‘nearly’ and ‘century’ is something Marlene would definitely scoff at. But he’s using the words to take down an eight year old, and yeah, okay, that seems like something Marlene can get behind. </p>
<p>Then his older brother bows, kisses her knuckles on his right hand, and proclaims grandly that he is Sirius Orion Black, heir to the Pure and Ancient House of Black, and that makes him royalty so she should curtsy. And yes, Marlene calls him a creep, but that doesn’t feel like enough, so she tells him she’ll eat  him before ever considering something like curtsying. </p>
<p>Regulus Arcturus Black, by contrast, tells her it’s a pleasure to be acquainted and somehow, Marlene suspects he means it. </p>
<p>They play for the rest of the night, no explanations necessary.</p>
<p>Smith, however, is an altogether different story. He’s there as she’s dressed in black, the same color as the casket being lowered slowly, regally drifting into the dark, muddy earth. She’s kicked her brother Paul for not letting her cry. As if she would, in front of all these gits who don’t even know her mum. Not like her, not the way Marlene did. Besides, she’s not a crybaby, she’s a big girl, seven to be exact. It’s an awful number to be, and it’s the date too, and it’s also her mum’s favorite number. </p>
<p>Was. It was her mum’s favorite number.</p>
<p>And of all seven people in her family, there’s just three she cares for,  Mum, Paul and Marcus. Now, there’s only two.</p>
<p>It dawns on her that Mum’s not gonna be around for Christmas carols this year. Not any year. Not ever.</p>
<p>She really hates the number seven now.</p>
<p>Barron Smith is her age and he’s the only one who may actually not be braindead, which bodes well for the future of wizarding kind, considering all she’s seen so far proves for a very dim one. She’s got a lick of faith in him, as he’s the only one who doesn’t offer fancy, empty words of consolation and pat her on the hand. It’s possibly due to how hard Marlene bites Bellatrix Lestrange for it, but no, he’s not the sort.</p>
<p>He’s two years older, he’s not a phony and he’s standing like a man, a king - refined, regal, all the things a pureblood should be and never is.</p>
<p>“I’m uncertain as to what I should say,” Barron Smith admits, his honesty almost vicious in it’s certainty and Marlene likes that. “They don’t get it.”</p>
<p>She says nothing, she doesn’t want to talk today and she doesn’t want to explain. Barron is fine with it, so whatever. He stands next to her silently, staring down anyone who causes her discomfort, until his father comes to take him home.</p>
<p>His quiet presence is a feeling she carries for ages, the image of his profile, swathed in expensive black robes, a buttoned up vest and shoes so brightly shined, that they blind, is a memory to keep her going. And when she gets quieter, more sullen, just plain rude really, he doesn’t run, he simply keeps sitting beside her silently. </p>
<p>When Paul dies the next February, murdered right before her eyes, things only get more grim. </p>
<p>These dark, terrible monsters come in screaming, Paul shoves her into one of the many cupboards, the one holding expensive alcohol she’s not yet allowed to look at. The door doesn’t shut fully and the yelling and lights continue. Marlene’s never been so scared, and then her brother falls with the most terrifying scream she’s ever heard and he doesn’t get back up. Paul’s empty eyes, almost identical to Marlene’s own, meet hers through the open crack of the cupboard door and they don’t budge. </p>
<p>In that moment, Marlene knows she’ll never be able to meet her own reflection the same way again.</p>
<p>A chandelier falls over, blood coats the rug, the sofas, the lampshades - everything. And Marlene knows it’s her fault. Somehow, her magic is to blame, and it’s such a shock when hours later - the next morning to be exact - Marcus finds her.</p>
<p>The bodies and blood are gone by then.</p>
<p>“Why are you in here?” Marcus chokes out, reaching in and lifting her up. He holds her so tight she can barely breath. “You shouldn’t be in here.”</p>
<p>She can still smell death, anger and blood in the air, and grief is fresh on her tongue.</p>
<p>“I was scared,” she admits grudgingly, desperately, torn and shaking and sobbing. </p>
<p>Paul doesn’t like her crying, Marlene reminds herself, she needs to stop. But she trusts Marcus, likes him, even loves him and so she is broken into a million pieces that can’t ever be put back together, no matter how hard he squeezes, and she explains because he will forgive her. </p>
<p>“I was so - and they were yelling and sending magic,” the words are unintelligible, caught between panicked breaths and unrelenting sobs, “angry, ugly magic was everywhere. And he, he, he… he put me in there - I couldn’t, couldn’t, anything… I’m sorry! He’s going to, he’s so angry about the chandelier and I didn’t mean to, didn’t know- I-”</p>
<p>“Hey, hey, shhh,” Marcus presses his face into her blonde hair. “Shh, I’ve got you. You’re okay, you’re okay, chandelier just needs a good reparo, don’t worry. Father doesn’t care about that. You, I care about though. And I’m here, you’re safe…”</p>
<p>He says it over and over, not letting go for hours. And somewhere in the back of her mind Marlene remembers how she’d seen her brother die last night, and then she’d witnessed how her Father had discovered the body, called a house elf to clean the mess and then walked away, leaving her huddled in a corner cabinet between the whisky and whatever the hell other crap is stored in there. </p>
<p>But hey, this Is her life, right? Stir, stir, stuff it in the oven. Whatever. </p>
<p>Marlene and Sirius are ten years old when she admits that of all the millions of people in the world, only Marcus cares. Reg is almost ten, but even he’s old enough to understand what it feels like to have very little by ways of affection. She states it like it’s the truth because it is, and like they can relate because they can, and like it’s normal because to them, it is. </p>
<p>“Well, I love you,” Sirius tells her in what is perhaps the most earnest moment she will witness for years to come. His tone is unguarded, genuine, and his eyes are imploring, almost innocent in the way a child’s promising gaze can often be. It’s also the first time she’s heard Sirius explain anything. He’s uncomfortable then, once he realizes what he’s said, but it needs saying and so he scratches his neck, “Like a sister.  Or whatever.”</p>
<p>Reg just holds her hand tightly.</p>
<p>“Whatever. Like it matters, right? Love’s for pansies anyway.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, exactly,” Sirius nods, then hides a deep frown as he tilts his head back. “We’re better than that.”</p>
<p>“We’ve each other,” Reg tells them in a low, firm whisper and none of them argue. </p>
<p>They have to tease each other then throw a few fisticuffs before they can return to reality. Too much had been revealed, expressed; admitted. It’s all true, though, which is both better and worse all at once. Mostly, it’s the makings of a bond stronger and more intimate than any she’s known yet. It’s silent and understanding, like Barron Smith or that muggle musician with guns after him. It’s an explanation for who Marlene is, not an excuse, and good Godric, it’s strong. Like Christmas Carols with her mum and the safety in Marcus’s arms and the taste of stolen whiskey on her tongue on her eleventh birthday. </p>
<p>Marlene steals a bottle because she can, because she’s eleven and her father forgets, because she’s left to receive her Hogwarts owl alone. </p>
<p>She tags along with Barron when it’s time to purchase school supplies, as her father can’t be bothered, Marcus is working across the pond and her other brothers are so busy attempting not to be their father that they, too, simply can’t be bothered.</p>
<p>Her wand is Spruce, Phoenix, twelve and a half inches and Ollivander is a creep.</p>
<p>“You’ll be powerful, strong,” he tells her shrewdly and Marlene thinks she’s not quite sold on the safety of his wands. The senile old wizard is beyond the limitations of mad. “But you will still need to learn to accept that which is beyond you, even if it is your own strength at times. Balance,” he takes her wand and levels it upon a single finger at center point for emphasis, “is key.”</p>
<p>“Merlin, you’re barmy,” she tells him blandly and snorts. </p>
<p>Barron’s father tries not to smile, squaring his shoulders carefully. Silently. Maybe Marlene likes him as well. Maybe. </p>
<p>The next person she lets slip through and make camp in her heart is Nicole Pertineli II. </p>
<p>They meet once they’re both sorted into Gryffindor, and it only takes moments for Marlene to decide she hates Nicole. Nicole, with her open, soulful brown eyes and glossy, perfect cascade of luscious mahogany locks dressed with a bow the way mummy must have instructed her. Nicole is exciting and kindness seems to go down smoothly with a side of marmalade and breakfast tea. It makes Marlene sick. </p>
<p>Nichole should have been in Hufflepuff, along with that nitwit Alice Prewett. </p>
<p>Then Slughorn stupidly pairs them up in Potions, obviously so blinded by his robust stomach that he’s completely unaware of how potentially disastrous it is to provide her with an unlimited amount of poisons and such an infuriating partner. </p>
<p>Nicole, however, is not as big an idiot as Marlene had originally believed, she is forced to admit when the tall, cherub cheeked witch doesn’t ruin their Draught of Living Death.  In fact, Marlene suspects that Lily Evans and that greasy haired Slytherin are the only other first years to score as well as them. Maybe better. Maybe.</p>
<p>“I know you don’t want to hear it,” pretty, grinning Nicole tells her as Marlene hurriedly packs up in the hopes of getting away. Far, far away. “But you’re actually alright.”</p>
<p>“You’re right. I don’t want to hear it. Certainly not from you.”</p>
<p>“Oh, too high and mighty to take a simple witch’s compliment? Well, I like your eyes. They’re the prettiest blue I’ve ever seen.”</p>
<p>“I so don’t care, Pertineli,” Marlene scoffs, shoving a loose quill into a side pocket, swinging her satchel over her shoulder. “We’re only potions partners, not mates.”</p>
<p>Nicole Pertineli seems to have no sense of self preservation because she shrugs, matching her steps to Marlene’s as they head towards lunch.</p>
<p>“Well, I want you as a friend,” the bubbly brunette nods, “and not because you’re mates with Sirius Black or because you’re an anomaly amongst Gryffindors. I think red suits you better than green ever could.”</p>
<p>Marlene tries not to react, she really, really tries, but the damage is already done and Nicole smiles widely as they climb towards the Great Hall together.</p>
<p>Four weeks later, Nichole, or Nicki, as she prefers to be called, puts that annoying, whinging Mary Anne Dennors in her place. Soon after, Barron tells her quietly that Nicole Pertineli II is fairly knowledgeable on the subject of magical creatures. And then, midway through a Sunday Exploding Snap tournament, Sirius and James proclaim her tolerable and pretty, along with Alice Prewett, Margaret Swan, Emilia Bones and Felicity Brown from their year.</p>
<p> Lily Evans doesn’t make the list because Sirius and James don’t find her at all tolerable.</p>
<p>“Here,” Nichole says during lunch one day, and pushes an orange parcel towards her.</p>
<p>Marlene regards it suspiciously, hands holding firmly to her cutlery, “What is this, Pertineli?”</p>
<p>“Nicki,” the brunette corrects amiably, tossing her stupid, glossy hair over a shoulder. “And it’s for Halloween, silly. You like sugar quills and your favorite color is orange. You told Sirius you weren’t receiving any sweets from home, so I had Charles fetch them.”</p>
<p>“I don’t need charity,” Marlene manages, with as much spite as she can muster.</p>
<p>Nichole laughs into her goblet of pumpkin juice, “That’s nice, I’m not one to give it. I’m a Gryffindor, not a Hufflepuff!” </p>
<p>“Merlin knows why.”</p>
<p>“Can’t argue with Merlin,” the other witch responds cheerfully.</p>
<p>“Shut up.”</p>
<p>Nicki laughs, and to Marlene’s absolute horror, it isn’t annoying now. It’s endearing. Ugh.</p>
<p>Soon, Marlene finds that their friendship is a rock, shelter from all the pain and terror hiding behind Hogwarts’ sturdy, enchanted doors. An escape from her reality and into the world Nicki is constantly creating - one where above all else,  good exists. </p>
<p>A world where mum’s braid hair and send batches of homemade biscuits on Mondays and Thursdays, where father's care and brothers love. A world where happiness is accepted and what one believes is perfectly alright, so long as it’s said and true to character. It’s a nice reprieve, it’s consuming and her newest friend is sensible enough to dull it down when Marlene is around. She seems to understand that for Marlene, too much would just end up in a sticky, runny ugliness. It certainly makes for an interesting contrast, as Marlene is one to explain and not excuse and Nichole Pertineli II believes in the second chances that sweeten her happy little world bubble.</p>
<p>Marlene is thirteen years old when Marcus tells her he’s in love. Elaine Peregiene is French, like their mum. He tells her before he tells Elaine and he’s thinking of getting a new flat in London to be closer to her, possibly moving in with her. Pretty far from Ireland, but she can visit all she likes and if she ever fancies staying entire holidays with them, that’s more than alright by him. Marcus figures Elaine won't mind. </p>
<p>Of course, as Elaine is the woman who’s managed to capture Marlene’s brother's gilded heart, she doesn’t mind.</p>
<p>“There is something powerful and tragic in that little girl,” Elaine’s mother yaps in French to one of the younger Peregiene witches while they stand around a picturesque white buffet. “Beautiful and tragic.”</p>
<p>Marlene hates the stupid woman. Marlene hates her for her opinion, for her daughters, for her French. </p>
<p>And yes, alright, she is filled with a terrible, inexplicable anger at her brother’s engagement party. It’s the same sort of anger that thrums through her veins when people mention Paul, or when Elaine tries singing Il Est Né under the tree at Christmas. It’s the anger she carries inside everyday, when she’s sitting in the Great Hall during breakfast and everyone is getting owls left and right. </p>
<p>To be fair, Marcus does often send her post, as does her mum's family and Lord Smith. </p>
<p>Now the Peregiene’s do too. Marlene doesn’t want them, she doesn’t want any of it and some days it’s just too much.</p>
<p>“Ignore her,” Sirius murmurs, gripping Marlene’s elbow and turning her away from where her eyes are burning figurative holes into her brother’s future mother-in-law. “I hear french birds don’t even shave their legs. And eat frogs. What do they know?”</p>
<p>That stupid woman? </p>
<p>She knows more than she should, but Marlene is already a heartless, frigid witch who just can’t be bothered to care. After all, Marlene isn’t the one marrying Elaine Peregiene, is she?</p>
<p>The anger grows as she matures, as if stretching to fill the spaces left open with every growth-spurt, and where once she’d just been five feet and bitter, now she’s so angry that she doesn’t even need a wand to destroy half the potions lab when Mulciber takes the opportunity to remind Marlene that she’s an orphan, hinting at knowing how her brother died. Suddenly, she’s breathing fury and five feet five. She’s twenty years old and only lived fourteen years.</p>
<p>James Potter pulls her into a broom cupboard one night as she’s trekking back from detention, and he shoves a beater’s bat in her hand and shows Marlene that even if she doesn’t care for others, there are people beyond Nicki Pertineli and her bubble world who do.</p>
<p> With every crack of wood against leather, the feel of the wind in her hair as it blows her fringe back, and the cloak of night as the moon sheds a faint, glowing light over this lethargic and finitely illegal moment, she feels more and more certain that somewhere inside, she is still alive.</p>
<p>She stops calling him Potter and begins calling him Snitch, and she sits with him and Sirius (and their two tag-alongs) during History of Magic. The pair encourage her to try out for the quidditch team, Barren and Reg walk her to the pitch and Nicki laughs and offers a congratulatory fist bump when the team list goes up and Marlene’s name is placed third. </p>
<p>It’s a nice feeling, to be a part of something bigger than herself, a team, but she still hates it when people pretend to understand her. And maybe Marlene does send a bludger after Mary McDonald’s Ravenclaw bloke the night after the Mary claims Marlene only cares about things so long as it can’t hurt her.</p>
<p>As if Marlene is some sort of self absorbed coward.</p>
<p>Marlene is finding that ultimately, when she is on the pitch, she’s alright. </p>
<p>There is no need for Nicki’s bubble which sometimes makes her angry, or Baron’s silence which can’t always be there, or Reg and his factual sneer which doesn’t always manage to level with her, or even Sirius and his reminders that he’s always there. </p>
<p>And now she’s got James Potter, with his easy, happy nature, off the pitch as well. As Sirius puts it, James has never met something he couldn’t put his faith in, and what James seems to like most is to fix things. </p>
<p>It doesn’t really bother Marlene because for all he has his own version of a bubble, his bubble is rougher and more realistic. She has never once seen James as perfect, just a better person than she will ever be.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. We Are Forged Through Fire</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Some time before fifth year’s Christmas hols, Marlene learns that James Potter fancying Lily Evans isn’t nearly as idiotic as they’ve all been claiming. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s one of those quiet days after midterm exams have ended but no one’s packed up for the holiday yet, when Marlene realizes she’s lost the letter from Lord Smith during one of her angry fits at lunchtime. Marlene isn’t really one for caring, but after the dust settles and she’s no longer so upset that only Marcus has extended any wishes to see her over Christmas, she decides to go hunt down the little post she does get. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Evans is sat at the end of the Gryffindor table, in the empty Great Hall, holding some elaborate flower-thing or whatever. The folded parchment sits a few meters from where the redhead is parked, just close enough that the other witch notices it quick enough. Oh, well.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Marlene does spare a moment to wonder how the entire table is spotless, save her discarded post laying ever so calmly on the highly polished tabletop, even after she had shoved it aside, leaving it behind like yesterday’s paper before stalking away.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I figured you’d want it, even if not right now,” Lily tells her and her tone is knowing, expecting, calm.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>All of these are things Marlene can’t stand, yet for some reason, she doesn’t want to punch Evans in the face for it today. It’s likely due to the look in those luminous green eyes. It’s a look Marlene knows, a look she can accept.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, whatever. Thanks,” Marlene clears her throat, wincing. She points to the plant in Evan’s hand, and at a loss of how to proceed, says, “Nice weed.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Marlene isn’t the one who fancies the redhead, yet </span>
  <em>
    <span>she’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> the one tripping over words she’s never really given herself time to familiarize herself with. Friend;y is not something Marlene cares for.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Petunia,” Lily corrects with a shrug, a sad smile tugging on her full lips. “Thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know what it is, I just don’t care,” Marlene tells her honestly. Then she stops on her way out and looks at it properly because yes, it's one flower, but the longer she looks at it, the more she realizes that it’s actually two. Half petunia, half lily. “It’s a nice bit of magic, though. So… yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m glad someone thinks so.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Marlene pauses  for a moment, debating with herself, then lets out a pained sigh before dropping heavily onto the bench, two spaces away. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Clearly, James Potter has more influence in her life than she would like,  “Alright. Okay, against my better judgement -uh, yeah, no, I bloody hate this shit. Ugh, why do I even care?” She shakes her head before facing a patiently waiting and vaguely amused Lily. “Whatever. I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>completely</span>
  </em>
  <span> heartless, so, err, I’ll ask. Is, uh… something wrong?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lily blinks twice, and then smiles, “I don’t think I’ve met anyone quite as uncomfortable with human emotions as you are, McKinnon. Or, other people’s emotions, to be more specific.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Look, I don’t have to do this, you know. Godric knows I hardly </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to, so. Just. I dunno, go on. State the - issue. But if it’s fashion or blokes, I will hex you into next fucking Tuesday, again and again.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Evans tilts her head thoughtfully, considering, and silence fills the air while Marlene works hard not to fidget. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Seriously. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>What Snitch sees in this girl, she will never know. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Then she watches as recognition flashes through Evans' eyes and Marlene is left uncertain once more. And when she tells her the flower had been a gift intended for an older sister who clearly doesn't give a shit, Marlene can’t help but find herself very reluctantly caring.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lily Evans is breaking down her stone walls and there’s not even a bubble involved this time. It’s more along the lines of a tornado. Charged, explosive, unexpected - lethal. There is nothing protective about it, and it’s all the more efficient.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It takes all of four months before Lily joins the carefully crafted list of people Marlene can stand for extended periods of time. By the time owls end and Snivelous botches up his friendship with Lily in a catastrophic bang and a hypothetical spit in her face, Marlene is nearly certain of two things. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>One, she may actually care a lot about Lily and two, Potter needs to figure out how not to be such a twat around her because although Marlene may not approve of his obsession, she is starting to understand it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But, whatever, it's not as if Marlene’s very invested in this friendship rubbish... is she?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>On the second to last night of her fifth year, Marlene’s sneaking back from a clandestine meeting with some bludgers on the pitch when Filch rounds a corner. In an attempt to avoid detection, Marlene quickly shoves herself into that very same broom cupboard which had begun the late night quidditch madness nearly two years ago.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There is a shift behind her, and the movement clues Marlene in on someone else’s presence. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A flick of her wand has a soft glow illuminating the space, and she can see one of Sirius and James’s tag alongs. The smart one. Remus Lupin, she thinks absently as her eyes land first on the parchment in his hands, then the fabric he’s tucked behind his back, before finally coming to a stop as their gazes meet.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Whiskey. Swirling, filling, burning, amber colored whiskey surrounds her as Filch’s shouts echo faintly behind her. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a kick to her gut, as subtle as a bludger to the face. The defensive walls are down for a moment and Marlene can’t seem to get them fully erect again. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It scares the shit out of her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Studying in a closet? Really?” Marlene spits out defensively, as soon as a silencing charm is up. “Gods, you’re demented. Did no one tell you, schools </span>
  <em>
    <span>over</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She speaks the last bit slowly, as if he really is mental, all the while knowing it will rile him up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It doesn’t.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m aware,” he tells her with a blasé shrug. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She chucks his nonplussed attitude to five years of friendship with Sirius Black. There could be little other explanation for his calm, practiced ease in her presence.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Marlene asks, sarcasm laying thickly over each word. “Well, I’m bloody speechless in reverence. Idiot.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lupin leans further back against the wall, head tilted in consideration. “Is this usual for you? Insulting dialog bandied about in broom cupboards while hiding out from Filch?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. Very. I’ve always been one for it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This strange, wry banter of theirs continues until they part ways in the common room, and then she forces herself to forget the Prefect altogether. Marlene is not as successful as she would like but she’s so busy avoiding thoughts of him altogether that she does </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> care. At all.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not something she has to concern herself with for long, though, as the summer before sixth year seems to be the summer from hell. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Between Sirius leaving the Blacks, Nicki’s sister marrying a monster, Lily meeting </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> sister’s monster, the spike in reported deaths and Barron’s promotion to quidditch captain, Marlene’s summer doesn’t leave time for thoughts of whiskey eyes unless she actually sees Lupin. Which she bloody well does, very many times, due to Sirius leaving the Blacks, Nicki’s sister marrying a monster, Lily meeting </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> sister’s monster and Barron’s promotion to quidditch captain.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The last one isn’t so direct, but the new position prompts a trip to diagon alley and apparently, Lupin never </span>
  <em>
    <span>doesn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> have parchment at hand in some form. Marlene discovered this quite accidentally, when she made a quick stop at Flourishes for a text on quidditch strategy, and almost tripped over Lupin as he was sat in the middle of the shop’s tight isle, taking down title names with a frayed quill. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>What a loon.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Marcus, having found her O.W.L. results while she’d been to the shops, throws her a congratulatory party when she gets back to his flat that night. Marlene, with red cheeks, a brittle smile is forced to admit in front of all her mates, that she has been paying more than a passing amount of attention during lessons. Of course, lucky her, for some reason Lupin and the other Marauder tag along are present, too. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She is going to find whoever is responsible for the invite list and gut them like a bloody fish. Cook them. Serve them up to Lupin and the tag along for dinner. And that’s just barely covering the details, too.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Feeling violent today?” Reg smirks in the kitchen when Marlene relays her plans the next day. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He’s visiting while Sirius isn’t around, as the tension between the pair is something she is completely uninterested in taking a swim in.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>, just in a mood.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“If this is a mood,” he starts with a fond chuckle, and he is so much taller than she remembers, she doesn’t think she will ever get used to hearing his voice from so high up, “your scores must be exceptionally good.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Whatever,” her eyes trail towards the parchment in question, tucked up in the spot </span>
  <em>
    <span>Elaine </span>
  </em>
  <span>posted it after a fifth boat of boasting. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s sick. Marlene doesn’t even like Elaine Peregiene, a woman who will never be Elaine McKinnon to her. But that hardly seems to stop Elaine from caring about Marlene’s achievements and whatever.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fantastically good,” Regulus sniggers, rubbing the back of his neck thoughtfully as she smirks. Then, he snatches her results from the wall, lifting them above her reach with a whistle of confirmation and she punches him. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ouch</span>
  </em>
  <span>- sweet Salazar, be still my beating heart. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Eight </span>
  </em>
  <span>nearly perfect O.W.L. scores? That poor, lonely Exceeds Expectations in herbology must be devastating. What in Merlin’s name </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> this, Mars?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>This</span>
  </em>
  <span> is why I don’t share marks,” she hisses, finally managing to pull her scores from his slack fingers, “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>hate</span>
  </em>
  <span> you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, you really don’t. You would lead with it if you did,” Reg says absently and he stands with his arms crossed, steel eyes calculating while Marlene carefully places the parchment back in its place. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Reg tries to meet her gaze and she stares him down in return. Marlene will not explain, not to excuse, and this is her making a statement. Whatever.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, leave already. You had lunch-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I see it now.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Marlene stills, mouth poised to form her next words but voice trapped between some deep-rooted fury and fright she will never be rid of. She doesn’t ask what it is he sees, she doesn’t want to know. In fact, what Marlene wants is not to know at all. It’s difficult to ignore his presence, solid, broad, swathed in dark robes. He is almost exactly three months younger than her, too, and as familiar as her own mind. It’s an odd idea, to think of Reg as a facet of herself, and she can’t ignore herself forever. Especially not if she’s out in the open, laid bare for herself to read. Marlene knows she would see too much. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>No, it would be dangerous business, explaining. It reveals top much, shows too much, gives more than she asks in taking.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Marlene chooses to turn around and sort through the excessive tea collection, instead.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mars,” Regulus states after a few minutes of silence tick by unimpeded. She takes a steadying breath, hands clenching. Damnit. “I’m not talking to your back.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a testament to they’re friendship that Marlene faces him after another dragging minute, and she remembers the boy who once held her hand tightly when they were children and didn’t let her feel alone. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just-“ she stops herself and swallows. “Just say it. Now. No, seriously, Reg, I can’t- just. Say it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You need to leave your home.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Rich, mate. Real rich. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> leave home.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“This is not about me, and it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>my home,” he states, insistent. “But McKinnon manor? You still live there, in your heart. It is your heart. Full of millions of empty, furnished rooms, creeping memories and death waiting in every corner. Your mother died, you were seven, you found her.Your brother - you’ve never said it, but I know you. That look, there, it’s the look of someone who has seen someone they love die.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Marlene clenches her hand so tightly, that she feels her nails biting into the flesh of her palms.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Regulus doesn’t let up, and at her silence, he shakes his head, “I think that you keep reliving the moments you lost people you love. Your Nanna, your mum, your father, Paul, Seamus and Philip. And it would be alright, if the anger didn’t keep fermenting. If you gave any indication that one day you would get up and leave that place. But you’re just-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Lighting lanterns in the darkness?” Marlene interrupts scathingly, and there is no kindness left inside her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Yeah, she’s beyond angry, thoroughly burning with it. The hypocritical piece of </span>
  <em>
    <span>merde. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Regulus may even be right, but that just infuriates her more because she is not ready. Not ready, not interested, and it is certainly more than she asked for the taking. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Marlene feels as if she really does hate him, now.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Regulus, for his part, is simply stood in the face of her fury, observing her, legs crossed at the ankles as he reclines against the kitchen counters. It only serves to add to her ire, fueling the fire, and the wanker will be a pile of owl treats if he keeps this up. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You,” she begins through clenched teeth and tightened fists, “have no </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span>-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh please,” he interrupts, rolling his eyes and then straightening, suddenly earnest. “We’re friends, Mars, and the two of us only have so many of them. If we can’t hold each other accountable, who will?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“This has nothing to do with-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It has everything to do, actually. You can’t even look at your own scores because somewhere inside you though he’d care and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>doesn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>. But I do,” he stands tall now, picking up his coat from where he’d draped it earlier over the nearest chair.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She hates that chair. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He’s ready to leave in seconds and it’s going to hurt like a mother… her mother. Except this time is so different because Reg is a part of her, a second heartbeat, and gods, he isn’t doing this to be cruel. It’s meant to be bloody helpful, like she’s his </span>
  <em>
    <span>case</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly, she feels that swell inside her, her magic so volatile, that the discarded glass cups beside the sink explode, shatter, raining sharp slivers </span>
  <em>
    <span>everywhere</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Marlene isn’t even thinking about how angry Marcus might be later, all she sees is red, fire, anger.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Regulus.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A calm, blinking Reg as he swings his black cloak over his shoulders and raising a brow, eyes sweeping over the glittering remains of her inner turmoil pointedly, “See? Everything to do. Marks shouldn't be this personal. Unless the marks aren't to do with you at all, in which case you’d be ashamed. And you? You don't do ashamed well, Marlene.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Get out. Now.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He does.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Marlene thinks on it for a solid month afterwards, turning it over and over in her head until she viciously reminds herself not to allow him any credence. He's bloody well </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span>, this has nothing to do with her father or acceptance, it's all a lie and </span>
  <em>
    <span>she's </span>
  </em>
  <span>right. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Isn't she?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Shouldn't she be?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He can't be right. No, of course not.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>To say she doesn't want to see him is an understatement. Marlene spends every waking moment at the Potters, even if Lupin is there just as often. Possibly even more often. She has to make the compromise because of James and his quidditch pitch. And yes, she is well aware that because Sirius is now living with the Potters, it’s also the last place Regulus would ever be found. Which serves to make it all the easier when Marlene starts trading in Friday night Leaky dinners with Regulus for Mrs. Potter's roast without bothering to inform Reg. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After all, if he thinks he knows her so well, he may be able to deduce that she wants nothing to do with him and she doesn’t care. Really, she doesn’t, not at all.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Regulus figures her out anyway, and on a random Tuesday that isn’t really all that random, considering the date, she’s opening her bedroom door to find an apologetic Marcus, in a bathrobe and half-asleep. She’s in the foyer within a few minutes, still in her orange striped pants and oversized Sex Pistols t-shirt. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her sister-in-law is there, inserting herself into Marlene’s business as if it's her own, looking like shit in her lace nightgown. A short, feminine lace nightgown. Gross.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Il est tôt, Marley,” the blonde witch yawns, and points towards the front door, “il ne partirá pas. Said you ‘ad to move ‘eem yourself because eets hees anniversaire.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Marlene blinks blearily, and then scowls at her brother in disgust, “Really?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Marcus sighs, accustomed to Marlene’s ornery nature, and throws an arm over his wife before leading her away, “C’mon, cherie, retournons au lit, eh?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And then they are both gone. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She stares at the door for a solid minute before she grimaces and pulls up the locks, letting the heavy wood swing open to reveal a determined Regulus on the other side. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He apologizes for being a git, tells Marlene he still believes what he’s told her, but that doesn’t mean he should have said it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> Marlene’s father may not love her, not her face, her grades, her soul, true, but Reg had once promised her that he did, all those years ago in the Irish countryside, their hands clasped as his brother spoke the words out loud. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They have each other. Right?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s true, in this cold, angry, desperately pure-blooded world where whiskey cabinets save lives and kill happiness, they only have each other. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And yeah, alright, he’s the one who came to her, ultimately. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine. But we’re not getting into it again.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Regulus stares her down and she doesn’t budge on this one. The wizard sighs, tilting his head towards the ceiling as if in silent prayer, “I just want you to be alright… eventually.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Marlene snorts, arms crossed, “Right, and I want you safe and away from your mental mum and all the blood purity rubbish. But I also want Dmbledore to turn his beard orange. It’s not always something we can ask for, even if we want to,” she pauses and gags in disgust. “Do you hear this shit? Sentimental </span>
  <em>
    <span>ranks</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I’m gonna be sick on an empty stomach.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tuesday morning Leaky?” Reg offers cheekily, a play on their Friday dinners at the Leaky, and he smirks, “could be a new thing for us. Or a biannual tradition, if you will.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Morning? It’s still nighttime, you twat. But,” she stops, makes a face. “It’s not too early to get pissed, right? Because I have to forget how often I’ve seen fucking Lupin. Don’t. Ask.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t ask, and she remembers that yeah, alright. She, er, hmm. Loves him too. Mostly what Marlene feels at this moment is grateful, as she is not in the correct mindset to handle explaining anything, least of all </span>
  <em>
    <span>Remus Lupin</span>
  </em>
  <span> and how she now knows of his fondness for unnecessarily extraneous words. She is already thinking too much as it is. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sixth year at Hogwarts is whatever, apparating is mildly intriguing and Regulus takes on a whole new light. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It happens after a particularly volatile quidditch match, which ends in a rematch, a shout-off, and Reg pulling Marlene in and planting one on her while Sirius fumes somewhere off to the side. Reg is her first kiss, and after that he is her first snog, her first everything and she doesn’t tell a single soul, doesn’t explain or reveal a thing. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It hardly matters anyway, this is all private.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She realizes on Saturday night in November, after they sneak back into the castle from a night in Dublin, that she promised herself she would never fall in love and now here she is, arse deep in it. So much for a guarded heart, Marlene sneers in bed the next morning, when the things you let in are the most dangerous. It’s strange, but this time, she really can’t bring herself to care less. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That’s probably why it hurts so much when Carren Soiban dies at the start of the Christmas holidays. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The death itself isn’t what really bothers Marlene. Death is so familiar to her, it's almost like an old friend come to visit amidst the sea of madness that is called up when she begins to consider trusting her heart. And it's certainly not Soiban she cares for - honestly, the Ravenclaw had been a proper cow since day one. All blonde hair and blue eyes and nasty perfume to sweeten herself up because if you look like an angel and act like the devil, you must be putting </span>
  <em>
    <span>some</span>
  </em>
  <span> effort into the allure, right?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gross.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But still, it’s a life, a Hogwarts life and from the Prophet article announcing the murder, she gets a peak at what may have been the inside of an expensive alcohol cabinet, yelling and flashing green lights, a blood-curling scream as someone falls and never stands back up again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She wants to talk to Regulus about it, tell him how every time she closes her eyes all she sees are those wide, empty, uniquely blue eyes, glassy in the darkness, and all she can think of is Paul. Marlene wants to tell him that despite her personal stance, she’s worried for Carren Soiban’s little brother, the sole survivor of the incident. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And it hurts so much when she quickly discovers he is the wrong one to explain it to.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a tragedy” Reg says as they sit in the ugly Grimmauld Place parlour. “Young magic gone.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And yes, Marlene may not care much, but there is something that sits so wrong about those words, his tone, the dark, evil room she </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> saw Sirius’s blood at one point or another in the thick, expensive carpet. And as she’s already thinking all these bullshit thoughts, she thinks, </span>
  <em>
    <span>like Paul</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And whiskey. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And oh, fucking hell, why does she care so much that Lupin went out with the cow that one time in fifth year. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lupin wouldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span> call the Soiban young magic, wouldn’t passively state it as a tragedy. More like travesty. More like a young </span>
  <em>
    <span>life</span>
  </em>
  <span>. More like in all actuality, Marlene doesn’t and never will have a lick of care for the annoying Ravenclaw, but she does have loads more than a general regard for her life. Cow or not. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Death is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>a friend, just an unfortunate and familiar acquaintance. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This is the moment things start to fall apart. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This, and when he refers to Lily as ‘the mud-muggleborn’ on accident. Just a slip-up, Mars, he claims, he lives in the Slytherin dorms. All his mates say it and it gets stuck in his head.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She spits at his feet and leaves with a loud, resounding, “Go shove it up your mum’s demented, inbred arse.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not a slip-up, Marlene doesn’t bother explaining, she lives in the Gryffindor dorms. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The next morning, Marlene wakes with the feeling that she has to do something, but what she has to do is what she doesn’t know. She has a feeling she will be late for the Smiths’ pre-christmas luncheon and by the time nine o’clock flashes from her wand at breakfast, and the paper comes in, she remembers that today is Soiban’s funeral. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But that can’t be it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>No one she cares for is dead for once. Just a life that could have been something if the witch hadn’t been such an absolute </span>
  <em>
    <span>twat</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And Marlene doesn’t know the family. At. All.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Besides, she tells herself, no one </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> knows would like to go. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Marlene heads back to her room, intent on a distraction. Her eyes catch the new charcoal grey scarf </span>
  <em>
    <span>Elaine</span>
  </em>
  <span> had sent in October. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em><span>Damn it</span></em><span>,</span> <span>she whinges, tearing herself out of her seat and shoving herself into a stupid black dress she keeps in the back of her closet, </span><em><span>what is wrong with her?</span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Twat,” Marlene growls at her reflection as she pulls out a stupid limited edition, self-applying eyeliner. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Another one of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Elaine’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> attempts to bond, or force femininity on the young witch. There had been a whole set, lots of different colors, but Marlene has never been one for sets. She’s choosy at best, discriminatory to the last.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When Lupin opens his front door, looking worn through and exhausted and as if he’s spent the holidays running through shrubbery for sport, he just stares with unblinking whiskey eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh,” she fidgets with her cloak. “Hi.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello,” he blinks, almost as if he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing, “are you… lost? Looking for Sirius? He’s-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Gods, no, I’m -  I know where he is. Sirius, that is… I flood Lily,” and because this entire exchange is going </span>
  <em>
    <span>so well</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she rushes to explain. “For your address. I figured… yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Now Lupin pauses, noticing the dress, her eyes, the scarf and she’s wondering what the bloody </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell</span>
  </em>
  <span> she’s thinking.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Look, nevermind, alright? This was stupid, all of it. Just - forget it. Whatever.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hold on,” he calls before she’s made it down the small London walk-way, and he grabs her elbow in a soft, determined grip that burns to the touch. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In her mind it does, anyway. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Marlene’s blue eyes meet clear amber and she’s yelling in her head about what an idiot this bloke is. What an idiot she is.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Remus Lupin is an idiot, he’s an idiot, he’s an </span>
  <em>
    <span>idiot</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she reminds herself all through the minister’s long list of qualities Carren Soiban definitely had </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> been. An idiot, she repeats, an idiotic, attractive, jumper-wearing bloody idiot who is actually quite intelligent…. Damn it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Damon it, damn it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“See you at the Potters?” He asks innocuously before she can climb into the floo and whisk away to the safety of the Smith’s living room.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Please. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> an actual life beyond that manor,” Marlene scoffs because even if it’s not strictly true in her case, it’s most certainly not true for him, and she doesn’t understand how he could possibly want to see her anywhere.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She doesn’t want to explain that morning, she doesn’t want to understand him. Marlene doesn’t want him or his whiskey eyes, she doesn’t want funerals or anything from anyone anymore. All that it’s done is land her in this mess, with an anger and pain that is entirely new, which she hadn't known could happen. All it makes her think of are corpses and whiskey and molded green lights she now recognizes for what they are.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>All she knows is anger and death.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Here's My Little Lantern in the Darkness</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>She sends Avery to the hospital wing during DADA. He’d shared some unfortunate poorblood superiority rhetoric about two months into term, and Marlene doesn’t stand for that bullshit anymore. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lily doesn’t say anything beyond a quiet ‘thank you,’ and that’s fine with Marlene because she hadn’t wielded her wand for anyone but herself. And she really likes Evans. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Barron Smith just shakes his head when Avery tries calling Marlene a slag the next day, and unfortunately, the git doesn’t follow through with his threats of violence. She’s never had a reason to hold Barron’s large, quiet build against him, but it is disappointing when it comes between her and her vengeance streak. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s a shame.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Marlene would have liked to make him scream like a girl again, sod detention. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And because shit likes to visit in abundance, and it's not enough to lose Regulus, to realize that he had lied, they don’t have one another after all, she begins to feel that she may be losing Sirius as well.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The irony that Nicki Pertineli II is at fault for this sudden shift does not escape Marlene. It’s not really Nicki, it’s more her bubble world to blame and Marlene wants to kick Mary MacDonald when she simpers, going on about how </span>
  <em>
    <span>adorable </span>
  </em>
  <span>it all is.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re totally the prime suspect,” the oblivious cow twitters, pretending that she knows Marlene </span>
  <em>
    <span>at all</span>
  </em>
  <span>, that they’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>mates</span>
  </em>
  <span> or something equally sickening. It’s disgusting, and it’s all to do with Marlene’s social standing, not any genuine intrigue. “They like, wouldn’t have gotten together or like, even </span>
  <em>
    <span>chatted</span>
  </em>
  <span> if it weren’t for you!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not even willing to feign interest, Marlene turns her disgusted glare on Mary, “Shut. Up. Seriously, you’re going to make me sick. Your voice has abused me to </span>
  <em>
    <span>regurgitate</span>
  </em>
  <span> chunks of toast and I want you to leave. Now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s not a pretty scene and Marlene doesn’t care. Pretty isn’t something she concerns herself with. Pretty involves delicate and happy and last she’s bothered checking, </span>
  <em>
    <span>she’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> not the one dating a Black, is she?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They may not mean to, and it most certainly </span>
  <em>
    <span>will </span>
  </em>
  <span>be a disaster, but they are going to fall in love,” Lily says as they sift through history notes in a last-ditch effort at studying.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lily, imagine how much I care,” she drawls in reply, head bent over her revisions. “Madelin the Mad is the bird with the hornet farming in the churches, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The redhead stares, cocks a brow, “Marley, remember two years ago, when you set all those wasps on our Defense professor and claimed you’d been possessed by Madelin the Mad? Because I do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You sure it’s not the looney bloke with the muggle hunting?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are we sure you’re not just jealous?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of course, Marlene deflects with a snarky, sarcastic quip, managing to show just how much she </span>
  <em>
    <span>isn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and when Lily leaves, convinced of how much she absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Marlene has to make one of the toughest choices in her life. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Trust, or not to trust.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Explain, or not to explain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t really take much to know she trusts Lily. She absolutely does, the way children trust aurors or professors. Lily Evans, with her subtle smacks to the face is definitely someone Marlene would trust with her life, with being Lily Evans.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But she’s not quite ready to trust her with Marlene McKinnon. Not yet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And as James had cheerfully put it that one time they had gotten away with turning Mrs. Norris blue, one is only ever as sick as their secrets. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hufflepuff’s defense this year is surprisingly good as well,” Nicki is telling Marlene excitedly one night, as if Marlene might be at all invested in what the taller witch has to contribute on the topic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nicki is clearly hearing it all from Sirius, Marlene and the wizard in question had the same conversation about two weeks ago. So Marlene nods indulgently and thinks that this is her good deed for the week because honestly, she’s angrier than a scorned Hippogriff, but she still cares. A lot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The realization spurs her to turn the magazine page, forcing interest in the still pictures. Distract, distract, or she might just tear the glossy new edition to bits with her bare hands, or just set it on fire with her wand. Whichever feat is the more drastic measure. She may even opt for option three, all of the above.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-and are you even listening?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s awfully kind of you. Me, sat here making an effort to understand quidditch and you, sat there reading about - motorbikes?” Nicki makes a face in disbelief, “What is </span>
  <em>
    <span>with </span>
  </em>
  <span>you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blandly, Marlene flips another page, “I enjoy fast, life-endangering sport.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You do?” Eva Sommers asks from behind the sofa. She’s a slim, doe-eyed witch in their year with a too sweet-smile, too-glossy hair and too-nosy attitude. “Is that why you dated Regulus Black?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> was because he’s the most willing to dispose of you for her,” Nicki bites out with her own wide grin before Marlene can even threaten to gauge Sommer’s overly large eyes out with a spoon. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She thinks about this moment later, when she hears Eva, MAD and Mary MacDonald discussing what they would wear on a date with Sirius Black. As if he doesn’t have a girlfriend. As if he would ever consider them as more than careless paramours. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s sick, the way they pretend to be all giddy and invested in the idea of Sirius and Nicki, when what they are really doing is waiting for their own shot at him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Next thing the trio knows, they don’t have any hair left to test the new Perfectionist hair potion Witch Weekly is advertising. The detention is worth the expression on MacDonald’s face during lunch, when Gideon Prewett, the brilliant, dishy Gryffindor seventh year catcher and prefect, starts sniggering and informs them that they’ve gone bald.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That is, it’s worth it until Lupin gets caught about the halls after hours and joins her in detention. She is stuck with both him and the utterly pointless task of scrubbing the collection of school awards and trophies as if it needs the cleaning.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fact, Tommy Lee had been here yesterday and Maegan and Morgan Boot the week prior. These fucking trophies are the cleanest thing in all of Hogwarts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I always thought you weren’t the biggest fan of Blackeneli,” he confesses, using the awful name her mates created for the relationship.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Marlene hardly knows why, but instead of ignoring his existence, she finds herself responding as genuinely as she’s capable of, “Uh, you try having two of your closest mates snogging in your corner of the library, Lupin. Then let me know if it doesn’t turn your milk sour.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Er, no thank you,” and then he chuckles, highly amused and good-natured, and she knows why when she considers who his closest friends are. “The show would never end.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, just shut up. I don’t actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>care.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The way you don’t care that your best friends are dating and you’re… not?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This leaves her reeling, Lily’s been on about this as well. And now Lupin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pfft, as if he knows a </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing</span>
  </em>
  <span> about her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gods, it’s been like this with him since Christmas and he’s proving to be a complete imbecile yet again. She’s told him about a million times that he needs to leave it, </span>
  <em>
    <span>her,</span>
  </em>
  <span> alone. They are not </span>
  <em>
    <span>friends. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not even slightly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jesus, Lupin - shut. </span>
  <em>
    <span>up</span>
  </em>
  <span>. already. Seriously, it was just that once, for that cows funeral, and it’s over now. Done with, finito, would you like me to repeat it in French for you? Will that help?” She raises a brow, allows her lips to curl up cruelly. “Just stop, alright? You’ll just embarrass yourself here and that would be too tragic for your delicate, feminine disposition. Just - scrub that Tom Riddle award or whatever, keep your eyes down and </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> talk to me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Marlene does admit to a furious Nicki that , yeah, alright, she’s been kinder with her words in the past. And it’s true, she’s been partícularly harsh with Lupin, but she refuses to apologize for it and she’d meant every word. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Besides, if she apologizes, it would destroy the carefully placed distance she’s finally managing to create between them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Forget that she’s sneaking glances at him a few times a day. Or how she reads a book she’s heard him recommend Alice Prewett, a book on bloody </span>
  <em>
    <span>herbology</span>
  </em>
  <span> of all things. And so what if Anna Rupert, the seventh year Ravenclaw prefect who’s pretty much an intellectual Hufflepuff, finds herself particularly snubbed after rumors of Rupert and Lupin’s little affair hit viral after Marlene caught them in a fifth floor broom cupboard.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That is something Marlene absolutely regrets seeing. She would have slept better at night without knowing that Remus Lupin does indeed speak French. Dammit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Marlene isn’t really talking to Sirius, not really talking to Nicki either. Smith’s not a big talker to begin with, and Regulus can go drown at the bottom of some dark, ugly, miserable water hole for all she cares. Lily is being held at arm's length as well because she sees way too much and still has it all wrong. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s especially wrong when she gasps in the library one evening, pointing at Marlene with wide green eyes and declaring that Marlene </span>
  <em>
    <span>fancies Lupin</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Which is </span>
  <em>
    <span>ridiculous</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Actually, what it is, is nauseating. Pathetic, sickening, </span>
  <em>
    <span>impossible, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and it leaves Marlene running for the exits faster than one could say ‘expeliarmus.’ </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Except, she can’t really leave Lily behind. The other witch is borrowing her lucky quill and she wants it back. Hence the arm’s length.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So all Marlene is really left with is James Potter and the Prewett twins, which only serves to land her in about fifteen more detentions for impromptu, after hours quidditch sessions. And another two after that, for, uh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>accidentally</span>
  </em>
  <span> smacking Filches ugly familiar with a bludger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Whoops.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And you couldn’t have </span>
  <em>
    <span>possibly </span>
  </em>
  <span>refrained from hospitalizing Mrs. Norris, Miss McKinnon?” Professor McGonagal states wryly, giving the blonde a knowing frown.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Marlene shakes her head to the negative, wide blue eyes growing impossibly larger, to the point that it’s giving her a headache, “Standard protocol, Professor M. Always hit a cat with a bludger when exiting the pitch. For good luck.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is that so?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m pretty certain it’s only real cats, Minnie, so you’ve nothing to fear,” Snitch grins cheekily while the rest of them work hard to smother their sniggers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They are of course threatened with suspension from the team if it happens again, so she stops sneaking out with them and starts going on her own. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She abuses the Slytherin stands one night, pretending that the tall wooden beams making up the space are actually Regulus, Lupin, her father, nameless, faceless, black-robed </span>
  <em>
    <span>Death Eaters.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Marlene read about them in the Evening Prophet edition. Marcus secures a subscription for her every Christmas since third year, due to the superior quidditch reviews. These days, the publication focuses more on the rampantly growing death and fear than games and player stats, and it’s all beginning to take on the dark shape she’s seen looming out of the corner of her eyes since childhood.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There is a name for them now, Death Eaters.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But just because they now have a title, doesn’t mean she doesn’t already know who they are. Marlene has known who they are from the age of eight, from the moment Paul shoves her in an alcohol cabinet. Marlene may have known even longer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She </span>
  <em>
    <span>hates </span>
  </em>
  <span>them, with every bit of that consuming fury building and burning, burrowing deeper, growing stronger and strong. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t matter how hard she hits those nasty bludgers, or how loud the ‘crack’ of wood on leather sounds, a violent ringing that runs through her body, making her want to ‘crack’ something else. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Like Death Eater sculls, perhaps.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No, not perhaps, definitely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And that’s how Sirius finds her, shaking more in rage than exertion, even if she’s got more than a healthy dose of that as well. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sirius takes in the scene for all of a half-second leaping in front of her and her bat as the bludger goes soaring through the sky and ‘crack’ against the benches. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Move.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With seemingly little concern for his handsome features, Sirius shrugs, “Nah.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She grits her teeth, “You’ll get hit. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Move</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmm, no,” he has one hand shoved in his pocket lazily, the other framing his eyes as he watches the approaching projectile as if it’s of no interest to him at all. “Still don’t think so. See, this is the most attention I’ve  received from you in, say-“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Move!” She panics, as the bludger comes at him, fast, hard. “Dammit, Black, fucking move! I’ll - ugh!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a furious shout, she spins around him, pushing him to the ground as a ringing ‘crack’ from her bat sends the angry ball in no particular direction beyond away from them. Marlene drops the bat, hears as it connects with something hard and prepares herself for the oncoming tackle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t ever do that again,” she growls a minute later, somewhat breathless from the struggle of locking the enchanted ball away properly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t ignore me again, then.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m bloody serious here, I’ll let it give you a concussion next time, I swear.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m</span>
  </em>
  <span> Sirius and I’m not in the mood for this shit. Just fucking talk to me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sirius has the Evening Prophet in his hand, along with that scraggly old parchment the boys are always toting around. His steely gaze is knowing, raging in a very familiar way and she suddenly remembers that yeah, this is Sirius bloody Black, who admits he loves her all of once, is completely emotionally stunted and willingly stands in front of bludgers to prove how much he still cares. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even when she’s been an irrational knobhead to him these last few months. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This is Sirius Black, who understands her in ways maybe no one else will. Knows her the way his own brother never will. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sirius Black, who isn’t just riding out the same current as her - he’s in the bloody raft with her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Marlene is such an idiot. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s not his fault he’s got these warm fuzzy feelings for Nicki - Marlene does too. It may be a different sort of love, but it’s really all the same at the end of the day. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So she takes a breath and does as he asks. Marlene talks to him. Explains. Exposes and gives much more than he’s strictly asked for the taking and it’s hard. But Marlene has the distinct feeling that he wants it all, and is silently asking for every second of it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They hardly sleep, barely managing an hour's rest before the sun is beating down hot and bright and they have to scurry back to Gryffindor tower through incessant sniggering and insistent hushing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Marlene almost feels like she’s floating, more at peace than she’s ever been before. It’s definitely an odd experience, she’s fairly accustomed to being a creature of darkness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But then, so is Sirius.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s almost all instantly better, just the way they prefer it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s like an addiction, as if now they’ve experienced the taste of their secrets on their tongues, they can’t stop chasing it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sirius tells her he’s in love before he tells anyone else, even James and Nicki, Marlene tells him she had been in love as well. She tells him the truth she’d tried confessing to Regulus all those months ago, she recounts what his brother had been to her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Marlene shares all the things she keeps locked inside, the things no one knows but perhaps suspects, and then she shares the things only Marcus knows and a few that even her oldest brother doesn’t. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sirius tells her Death Eaters mean family to him, no matter how much he tries to cut them out. He tells her he hates that about himself the most. Marlene assures him that it’s not true anymore.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ve got a better family now, a Gryffindor one,” she promises intently, “no more Slytherin greaseballs.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He smirks in reply, and it’s not as cocky as usual, “So do you, you I know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whatever…” she fidgets uncomfortably, then makes a face and shoves him when he tries to hug her. “Ugh, get off! You stink of wet dog. So gross.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That defuses the tension in a heartbeat and she breathes easier. Sentiment is not her thing. At all. It’s not his either, and they both have the urge to tease each other, bandy about insults the way they used to throw around feisty-cuffs in an effort to restore the balance. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As far as Slytherin greaseballs go, she lands the king himself when she’s paired with Snivulous Snape for their final potions project. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They last a solid four minutes when they meet up in one of the student labs, before he’s stone and she’s dangling from an ankle, both furiously gripping the other’s wand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Marlene hates the git so much, but what she hates most is that despite her best efforts to the contrary, she can almost understand him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She has the common sense not to let him know.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>During the final exam, she spots the word </span>
  <em>
    <span>levicorpus</span>
  </em>
  <span> scribbled hastily in the margins of his textbook and when their professor makes an unnecessary comment about mother’s and their unconditional love, she thinks, </span>
  <em>
    <span>why the hell not,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and suddenly Sluggy is hanging upside down, robes falling over his red face. She raises an eyebrow and meets his gaze squarely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t insult a mum neither of us has,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she thinks brutally, and when his eyes widen imperceptibly, hers harden, breaking contact in realization.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She burns the gift Regulus sends her on her seventeenth birthday, right there on the counter, but it won’t catch fire no matter how hard she tries. It seems that with every year she ages, others around her get less dim-witted. So instead of leaving it a smoldering mess the way she really, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> wants to, she just gives an indignant shout and slams it into the kitchen rubbish bin, refusing to open it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Marcus, Elaine and the house-elf all have the good sense not to ask what that's all about.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Marlene wouldn’t tell them anyway, it's nothing worth discussing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s really abso-</span>
  <em>
    <span>bloody</span>
  </em>
  <span>-lutely nothing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” Sirius says when she tells him she can’t make lunch, she has an appointment she can’t miss at McKinnon Manor. “One second, I’m coming with. Hang on.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No fucking way-“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s no arguing this one, Mickey Mouse. You go, I go.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She hates the nickname so much she punches him in the stomach, where it hurts most.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s so grateful, she can’t even say thank you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He makes it easier when she kneels in front of her mum’s gravestone and holds tight to her new watch. It’s a pureblood custom, giving a newly of age child a watch, and it seems her mother’s family feel it necessary to uphold the tradition, with her own mother’s watch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Snape couldn’t be more wrong, he doesn’t know more of the darkness than she does. He just allows himself to bask in it more than she’d ever disgrace her loved ones with doing so herself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Marlene is a fighter, after all, not a coward. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She is a Gryffindor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If her world is black, she steps right into the darkness and makes her own light. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That’s what this is about, isn’t it?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Living, loving, creating, being- she just has to keep on going, even when it feels like too much. Even when she’s shaking with rage and exhaustion. Even when she feels as if she is alone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All she has to do is remember that Paul kept her safe and that he fought with his all, that she has to do the same because this is all about to get so much worse and people like Nichole Pertineli II and James Potter and Lily Evans, and yeah, even Remus Lupin, are about to do the same and are showing her that it’s worth it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now it’s Marlene's turn to prove it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For her, for Sirius, to Reg and Snape and every other lonely soul.</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>Closing her eyes, she swears right. There on her mother and brother’s graves that </span><em><span>she</span></em> <em><span>will, or she will give her life trying.</span></em></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She will because she is Marlene McKinnon, with a guarded heart that tells everyone who isn’t brave enough to persevere to </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck. off.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sirius takes her home on the new, shiny motorbike Marlene helped him order from that magazine Perry Pertineli gave her a while back because they are all three into fast, life-endangering sports.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think I’m moving into my own flat,” her friend tells her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We all are, once we graduate.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“At the rate we go, I think we’ll be in Azkaban before that,” he laughs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How about you and I get Bella there first, hmm?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pauses, then his angular features light up as he laughs maniacally. “I’m serious though - not a pun, the actual emotion. I’m getting a flat. Can’t live off the Potters and me? I need my own space. Just for me, you, James, Remus, and Nicki. I s’pose I could be nice and occasionally let Wormtail in, too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Evans not allowed in your future, then?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Marlene wants to explain that she understands, that he is worried for nothing. He will always be the Sirius Black to Snitch’s James Potter, the yin to his yang, the Dumbledore to his Hogwarts. Sirius will always know James in ways Lily never could, and that means so much more, ultimately. Enough that James would stand in front of an oncoming bludger when Sirius is being a prick. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wants to tell him, reassure him, but she has never been good with words that aren’t meant to cut through flesh and bone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Instead, she offers him a ciggy as they stroll through the park across from Marcus’s London townhouse and they take a moment to smoke in silence. They keep each other company with the weak excuse that they can’t smoke inside, not with Elaine’s pregnancy, and they both understand what isn’t being said.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<span>This whole pregnancy thing seems stupid to Marlene, the idea that they are bringing another person into this messy, miserable ordeal they call life. But it’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> child, is it, and all she can do is sit back, wish them the best of the British and take a smoke outside. </span>
</p><p>Nicki’s parents die four weeks into the summer.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Forged Through Fire</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There is a surprise attack at the Ministry Fundraiser and maybe Unspeakable Pertineli doesn’t always strike Marlene as overly brave, but then again. The wizard is the director of the exclusive Terrence Tower Crime Division for a reason. </p><p>There are six dead Death Eaters and seven dead civilians, but the loss that shakes the wizarding world to its core is that of Adolfo Pertineli and his muggle supermodel wife, Cheryle. </p><p>Marlene knows she is likely one of the few who can say she sees the change coming. Perhaps Sirius does as well, but he’s never lost a parent to death, just lost their already limited affection, respect and the hope for real parental love. Which is difficult enough, Marlene knows, she’s got it both.</p><p>There is a distinct misery that comes with knowing that no matter the circumstances, someone whom you love and who loves you is gone permanently. </p><p>So when Nicki’s bright world bubble disappears before Marlene’s very eyes, she’s not bothered. It’s heartbreaking, yes, but actually, as cruel as it may seem, Marlene is always more at ease in the aftermath of grief and destruction than she is in shiny perfection. </p><p>Somewhere in the back of her mind, Marlene has always considered Nichole Pertineli II to be unreal. Too pure and perfect to relate to, and it leaks into the parameters of their friendship. The happy optimist and the guarded pessimist, Nicki and Marlene.</p><p>When Marlene wakes in the middle of the night to her friend’s wrecking sobs sounding through the thin guest room walls, and when she climbs into bed with Nicki to hold her tight through the darkest hours, she still feels as if Nicki is so much better than her. </p><p>It’s alright, that is how it should be. </p><p>The difference now is that Marlene knows that Nicki actually understands. That Nicki gets her. And now, Marlene gets Nicki as well, without an inch of explaining.</p><p>“She’s not talking at all?” Lily is asking Nicki’s brother Perry with such deep concern, it's as if she also knows Nicki the way Marlene does.</p><p>“Don’t tell me you’re surprised?” Perry challenges, and like the prick he absolutely is, it carries none of the delicacy or kindness his little sister infuses her life with.</p><p>Marlene has always held a healthy mix of disdain and understanding for the eldest Pertineli.</p><p>“I - it’s not healthy.”</p><p>“Right, cuz murder is so healthy, last I checked,” Sirius scoffs. “Maybe it’ll balance out.”</p><p>Unlikely, Marlene thinks.</p><p>In her experience, the more unbalanced the scale, the further downwards it will tip. And it hurts every time, on every level.</p><p>Nicki will start talking, certainly, and fairly soon as well. But it will be bloody painful, no longer as free. Emotions and honesty will pile behind harsh reality and if it already smarts so much, why bother hiding it? There is no use cushioning a delicacy that no longer exists.</p><p>Sirius loses his Uncle Alphard before Halloween and they are all shaken once more. </p><p>It’s his last tie severed, and Alphard Black manages to go with one last resounding ‘sod you’ to the Black family legacy by claiming Sirius as his sole inheritor. The old wizard is leaving nothing behind for the evil that is beginning to rise through his family, not an heir to corrupt of a fortune to pervert.</p><p>It seems many are beginning to take stands, to acknowledge the darkness on the horizon and no amount of ignorance will save anyone.</p><p>“There’s been another attack, on-“</p><p>“How many?” She interrupts Lupin, abruptly looking up from her breakfast, not the least bit interested in any other specifics. </p><p>She is much too angry for that.</p><p>Silence is her only response and the sandy-haired wizard with the too-bright eyes clears his throat as everyone stares at him over bacon and muffins and all the creature comforts Hogwarts can manage to offer them.</p><p>Marlene can’t bring herself to care about his discomfort, she wants an answer. An honest, straight answer, no matter how horrific or disturbing it may prove to be. </p><p>“How. Many?” She demands again.</p><p>“Moony?” Sirius prompts quietly.</p><p>“Fourth-three.”</p><p>“Bloody hell,” James breathes out over the sounds of Nicki’s gasp and Marlene’s clattering fork.</p><p>“Muggles aren’t able to protect themselves in this one. These monsters can rip through their defenses,” Alice says sadly.</p><p>Marlene feels sick. Something she’s only just eaten is quickly turning to acid and her stomach is rising up her throat like the fucking Red Sea as she processes the number. </p><p>Fourth-three muggles are dead.</p><p>Fourth-three people aren’t going to have breakfast today, and mostly likely another ten won’t tomorrow. That’s the maths now that those bastards are setting their wands on helpless victims. Alice is right, these monsters rip through everything. </p><p>Lily sits down heavily in the only empty seat available, right beside Snitch, and her Head Girl badge catches in the sunlight Marlene wants gone. </p><p>“Did you read about the Cardiff Orphanage?” The redhead asks, green eyes heavy and weary.</p><p>Marlene is up and out the door in a minute flat, her steps more in line with stomping than striding, and she realizes distantly that her grip on her wand is precarious because she’s shaking so hard.</p><p>She’s on the main floor already, and the Gryffindor changing room is completely empty. It stays that way long after she’s bloodied her knuckles on the walls and scorched the benches with wayward magic. It’s not until after lunchtime that anyone comes looking for her, and Nicki only takes a moment to take in the scene before deciding this is probably best left to someone else’s discretion. </p><p>This is the Marlene McKinnon no one else can reach, no one can help. This is the Marlene who feels that she can’t reach, she can’t help and it’s all just so stupid. Infuriatingly, helplessly stupid, the lot of which she can’t seem to get a handle over for all the bludgers in the world.</p><p>“What is it you propose, Miss McKinnon?” Her headmaster poses, sat beside her on the hard locker room floor.</p><p>Marlene’s eyes catch on the orange hue of her tights, bright against the black of her uniform skirt and framing her knees in Halloween colours children, orphans, will never see again. </p><p>She knows who’s fault it all is. </p><p>It’s people like stupid Mulciber’s and nasty Avery’s and fearful, impressionable Regulus Black’s. Even if it isn’t their very hands that did the deed, not their wands that cast the spells, they may as well have with their sympathies and support. She just knows it, the way she knows Mary-Anne Denners will always be a slag, or that world peace is an idiotic joke, or that her father never truly loved her.</p><p>All Marlene wants to do now is sit here and crack skulls because she doesn’t know what to do this time, or how to go about not doing something for a change. </p><p>“We have to stop them, Professor,” She rasps. “Destroy them, back them into a corner and let the bloody dementor’s feast.”</p><p>The soulless monsters can party with the soul sucking demons in Azkaban as far as Marlene is concerned. They deserve that and much, much worse. </p><p>“Are you prepared for the toll that would take on you? For the dedication and responsibility you will need to carry?”</p><p>Dedication and responsibilities are hardly new words in her whiskey colored, blood stained life. They have been there from the start, and Marlén has already sworn herself to the cause, even before the day she turned seventeen. She doesn’t have to think at all to know she’s willing to give and take whatever is necessary, whatever will keep her from feeling so helpless. </p><p>“I’m one of those witches willing to do anything,” she confirms because she is prepared to give her life to this, if that’s what it takes.</p><p>Dumbledore can see it in her eyes, can tell that dedication and responsibility don’t scare her, that the fear of death isn’t going to keep her from the fight.</p><p>He nods, “Yes, I dare say you are.” The wizard climbs to his feet, eyes thoughtful, “I ask that you refrain from joining the fight just yet. Come to me after graduation, if you still feel up to the task. Until then, I suggest you invest in the more… legally acceptable options available to the war efforts.”</p><p>“Wha- wait. You mean, you’ll help me?” She demands, scrambling up alongside him.</p><p>His sad smile makes something in her mind spark in frustration, “Go to your last lesson, Miss McKinnon. I’m sure Professor Flitwick is finding the day unusually dull without your particular charm.”</p><p>Following Halloween, Alice Prewett hands her an Auror brochure with an amiable shrug.</p><p>“You’ll be wanting it, I think.”</p><p>Marlene really doesn’t. Aurors have laws and limitations, authorities to answer to and partners to work alongside them. </p><p>Marlene is about to tell they other witch how much she does not want it, when Lily comes to sit on her bed, reaches over and begins flipping through the glossy pages in mounting contemplation.</p><p>“I think… I may be applying. At least until the war is over, I want to be in the fight,” her friend announces and Marlene tries not to stare. “And I hear they have brilliant training.”</p><p> Alice nods, laying spread-eagle over her own duvet as if this is the most casual of conversations, “Gideon says it’s practically militant.”</p><p>“Does he?” Marlene asks dryly, not really caring. </p><p>She shrugs, “Maybe legal licensing to lock murderers away is what you need.”</p><p>Well, she’s never been fond of Alice, not with the way she just seem to know things she really shouldn’t but it is nice to be acquainted with someone who’s regard for explanation is rather on the nonexistent side of things.</p><p>Christmas sees her, Lily, Nicki and Lupin as the only remaining seventh year Gryffindors this year. Pettigrew nearly stays as well, but ultimately decides to spend the holidays with his mother, much to Marlene’s relief. She’s never liked the boy. At all. And she likely never will. </p><p>Lupin’s girlfriend, Edna Priestly, from sixth year, gives her a plate of biscuits and a smile Marlene does not return. Instead, she dumps the it in the rubbish bin, as seems to be her new tradition with unwanted gifts. </p><p>Honestly, as if Marlene would fancy charity by association. </p><p>Lily offers her a knowing glance from behind her new potions magazine and Marlene tries not to care because there is nothing to know. Instead, she leaves Lily obsessing over some new discoveries involving the Wolfsbane plant with Lupin and Nicki and heads towards the kitchens in hope of finding some Christmas pudding. </p><p>She speaks to Lupin exactly twice over the holidays. </p><p>The first time is when she grits her teeth and requests that he pass the ham ad he thinks it wise to demand a ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ for his obviously tireless efforts. She rolls her eyes, flicks her wand and fetches it herself in response. </p><p>The second time they speak, it’s in the common room. Nicki is at Hogsmeade for the day with her family and Lily is introducing Snitch to her sister and her pet Walrus. It’s the true desperation of loneliness that drives her to do it.</p><p>“You’ll get fat and pudgy if you keep devouring all that chocolate.”</p><p>“Why Marlene, I didn’t know you cared,” he responds easily, and then he laughs at her horrified expression. “You know, if you’d fancy a taste, all you’d have to do is ask.”</p><p>“... Yeah.”</p><p>Silence falls gently over the pair and she is alright with it, choosing to read her Quidditch Entertainment right there on the sofa. It’s not as if she has an urge to speak with him, Marlene doesn’t even care for what he might have to say, does she? No, of course not.</p><p>She catches a glimpse of her watch and counts exactly five hours to dinner.</p><p>Five hours that she doesn’t require company for, or any distractions form the oppressive Christmas spirit.</p><p>“I hate Christmas,” Marlene finds herself saying before she can stop herself.</p><p>Lupin stops filling in his crossword and stares at her in true befuddlement, “Have you perhaps considered taking the sentiment down to Snape and the rest of the Slytherins? They might be more receptive.”</p><p>Oddly, it seems it’s exactly the right thing to say as she keeps talking, “I’m serious. It’s all meant to be about warm and fuzzy… stuff.”</p><p>“Feelings, yes,” the lanky wizard nods, “I’ve noticed you don’t appreciate those.”</p><p>“Jumpers, you idiot. They itch and their bloody uncomfortable.” He gives her buttery soft, pale blue woolly jumper a considering look and Marlene rolls her eyes, setting the magazine on her knees, “Nicki made it.”</p><p>Lupin stares a bit more and she actively keeps from shifting uncomfortably. Whatever it is he’s thinking, Marlene can tell she wants it dead. Gone. Obliviated, preferably. </p><p>She pulls her eyes from away from his form and starts back on the article’s sixth paragraph, fourth line on the Magpie’s new  beater team. The content is good, informative. Exciting. Stupid. </p><p>Marlene keeps reading.</p><p>“Why did you decide to stay instead of going home?”</p><p>Why the hell not, she figures and shrugs, “moved out. Haven’t been to the manor for the hols in years.”</p><p>“I meant Marcus,” he corrects.</p><p>“Shuddup, Lupin. I know what you meant. Pass the chocolate here - no, not the one with nugget, you barbarian.”</p><p>She doesn’t feel up to sharing about France and the pregnancy and how she feels she has to cut ties before they replace her with some infant who’s never been touched by tragedy and hate. She doesn’t want to have to think about how Marcus has finally gotten tetchy with her after she called Elaine fat, or how Marlene is terrified and feels the need to guard herself against everything after all this time, especially family. </p><p>She doesn’t want to discuss it at all. Certainly not with Lupin.</p><p>During one of her Friday night dinners with Barron Smith, the Ravenclaw prefect informs her that she’s been accepted to the Auror academy for this coming autumn. The dinners are a habit they’ve managed to keep up since second year, meeting in the kitchens for a private meal between mates. There used to be a third party involved, but Marlene made it very clear last year that Regulus Black is no longer invited. Those days are long gone, and now she’s set to be an Auror.</p><p>The next week, Terrance Tower, the ministry's special division task force, places an offer and two weeks after that she accepts placement in the prestigious training program. </p><p>Her seven O’s and one EE gives her a considerable scholarship, meaning she doesn’t need funding from her brothers or her father, and Perry Pertineli assures her that boarding will be covered as well. </p><p>Marlene has never been more in order in her entire life.</p><p>She makes it through graduation and then locks herself in the toilets after she’s publicly presented with two awards; Rowena Ravenclaw’s Most Exceptional Witch and the ministry’s Dedication in Magic award. </p><p>Her mates all achieved high marks and honors as well. Well, Nicki, Lily and James do, Alice is more a dear acquaintance than a friend and Lupin is only her… Lupin? Whatever.</p><p>She stays in the loo for hours, taking into the mirror, staring at the ceiling, staring at her fingernails. She studies the tile patterns and thinks about how this is the last time she’ll get to. She’s already spent all night knocking bludgers with Sirius and all morning in the library with Lily and Nicki. She’s even managed to stand still as her professors shook her hand this afternoon. And yet here she is, in the first year toilets, feeling empty and... cheated.</p><p>Marlene knows she’s meant to feel brilliant right about now, accomplished, excited for the next chapter of her life, youth left behind and the future set brightly ahead of her. The thing is, her youth finished the day she turned seven and found her mothers lifeless form in her bed and it disappeared the at the age of nine, the night her brother shoved her into a cupboard to keep her out of harms way as his murderers descended upon her home. And her future only looms like a dark shadow, cackling with cruelty, pain and loneliness. Instead of bright, it hangs as bloody and shattered, similar to her innocence. </p><p>Sirius opens the door, gives her a hand up while Nicki bustles them along. Smith makes some quip about finish lines Marlene doesn’t hear and Lily sucks in a chuckle while James complains that she never laughs at his jokes, to which someone responds that James isn’t funny.</p><p>It will be alright, Marlene figures, she is not alone. </p><p>Tonight, she isn’t mean to Lupin, she holds his steady, whiskey coloured gaze every time their eyes meet during dinner, and then after at the end of term party Sirius insists on throwing. She finally allows herself to recognize something in him that come tomorrow, she won’t care for but can handle just fine tonight. It’s the mark of the lonely that all her mates share. </p><p>Daughters without mothers, sons without fathers, children without siblings and a whole lifetime ahead of them.</p><p>Perhaps it’s the mark of their generation.</p><p>Or maybe their legacy will be the love they still carry, the life they strive to live, regardless of all the shoddiness trying to stop them. </p><p>“Nice bird,” Marlene offers Dumbledore the next morning, as he motions her to a seat beside a stout, broad-shouldered wizard with mad, paranoid eyes and a silver flask.</p><p>“Thank you,” the old wizard smiles contentedly, nodding. “Phoenix's are rare beauties indeed. But not, I think, why you are here. Marlene, I would like to introduce you to Auror Alestar Moody.”</p><p>The nutty looking wizard and Marlene stare at one another for the full length of a minute, both cautious and mistrusting, attempting to read the other like quidditch plays. There’s an ease in the familiarity they can recognize in one another and a comfort in the fact that Dumbledore is willing to vouch for them both. </p><p>When they finally an age to greet each other, it’s with minimal hostility and reluctant curiosity.</p><p>“This is all made a great deal easier, as your scores on the Auror entrance exams landed you as his trainee.”</p><p>They shake hands and it’s as if this is the first time she’s choosing to be where she is, who she is and what she will do as Marlene McKinnon. </p><p>Today starts the rest of her life. Just the start, she tells herself.</p><p>It’s only the start.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yeah, that's the end for this one. I'm considering writing an after Hogwarts piece, I'm just gonna miss her and this therapeutic process so much. But also, that's... a considerable amount of work. And Marlene's anxiety is intense af. Decisions, decisions. </p><p>Thank you for reading, it means a lot to me. Sending all the love out into the world. We need it now more than ever.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Seems like the worst time ever to be getting this up and out, but I guess the incredible angst in me loves company? Sending much love and goodness to you.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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